The Observation of the Weasel: A Scientific Study
by One who turns - Untiled edit
Summary: Repost: AU Ginny's decided to play it safe for her 6th year - but that's obviously not what two Slytherins had in mind. G/D/B triangle, may be elevated to M later, R&R to choose who she should end up with! This and the other version are same content, G/D
1. Chapter One: The Anatomy of the Weasel

**Old Author's Note: Disclaimer,etc.**

**AU, takes place Ginny's sixth, Harry etc.'s 7th year**

This will also be published under my new account later, with the rest. Consider this a teaser chapter. ;)

**New A/N: **How funny, I'd forgotten I'd already made this account then... Well, I suppose I kept up my end of the bargain, didn't I? Unfortunately, because I just recently re-read this on fanfic, I am not going to re-read it all for errors, instead I'm going to skim (except for the worst parts). Hope you enjoy re-reading (if you're an old reader) or reading for the first time! Please review, even if it's a one letter review, so I get some idea that people are at least reading this. =]

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**Chapter One: The Anatomy of the Weasel**

Ginny waited until Hermione was out of the room then immediately turned off the classical. She carefully tuned the muggle radio to some pop station and continued her work. The signal was weak at Hogwarts, and the radio really only received four channels, but Ginny didn't mind. It was nice to have some music that wasn't the Weird Sisters' screeching, or an equally cacophonous wizard band which seemed to be the most popular genre these days on the wizarding wireless. The song she tuned to hummed quietly, the simple melodic thrum of chords letting Ginny sink slowly back into her homework. Hermione had this idea that classical music was supposed to help one's brain absorb more information - but Ginny had a very different view. If all you listened to were symphonies and operas, you would go crazy, she was sure. Of course, that didn't mean she hated classical music, actually she was quite fond of certain songs and composers - Tchaikovsky and string music she liked - but Handel's Messiah? Not so much.

After a bit Ginny felt she could recognize the chorus, and hummed along. Her voice wasn't awful, but it wasn't exactly the best. Most people were annoyed at her singing - not really because of her tone, more because she had an uncanny habit to repeat the same part of the song many times, because that was the only part she knew.

Ginny sighed, flipping off the radio and reviewing her final product. She smiled: not too bad. A scroll and a half on defensive jinxes for Professor Warren. She carefully rolled up her parchment and placed it back in her school bag. She gazed out the window, longingly, at the sunny Saturday. She checked her watch. 10:02 AM. A couple hours in the library to finish some potions homework and then she could allow herself a rest in the last dregs of the summer she gathered her books. She needed to start off well - her O.W.L.s last year had been simply par. She wanted to gain the trust and respect of her teachers now - and avoid the unfair punishments later.

With her new outlook on school, Ginny had adopted a new look. She kept her hair pulled back in a tight bun on most days, and was constantly wearing her thick black rectangular reading glasses, in case she needed to look something up or write something down. Her hair had darkened very slightly in the summer sun, just enough to let the garish red strands shine out even more. As it was a weekend, Ginny was dressed casually. Her hair was in a tight high ponytail - out of her work - and her glasses perched on the edge of her ski slope nose. Her bright brown eyes had dulled in her studies. She wore loose cargo khakis - some hand-me-downs from Ron - and a blue Oxford University sweatshirt Hermione had given her when she had grown out of it. Her trainers were slightly too small, and a very dull brown. The only shiny things on her were her hair and her tiny golden locket.

Ginny walked down the stairs to the common room, sighing at its emptiness. Everyone was outside, having a good time. And she was working. Even _Hermione_ was out enjoying herself with Ron and Harry, and it was her N.E.W.T. year! Ginny weakly pushed open the portrait and walked drearily toward the library, wallowing in self pity. Everything was fuzzy and dull, and Ginny barely saw the two figures in time to swerve out of their way. Somehow - maybe the proportion of her prescription - she managed to hit them anyway, falling to the ground with an uncomfortable thud and clatter.

"Watch where you're going, four eyes."

Ginny looked up and blinked in puzzlement - not recognizing the hazy faces that floated away from her. She realized she was still wearing her glasses, and propped them on top of her head, gathering up her books and assignments from the floor. She looked up at the retreating head of the boys she had hit. "Of course," she muttered, pessimistically, "Malfoy." She sighed, finishing getting the last of her quills from the floor, and straightened up. They were there. She felt the heat rush to her face as Malfoy squinted at her, attempting to remember exactly who she was.

"Ah. The youngest Weasel," his lips twisted into a sneer.

"Look, Malfoy: I'm not in the mood," Ginny sighed, too tired to put up a fight.

"Weaslette, I don't like you that way," He smirked, "Maybe you should go find Potter -" a look of faux pity dawned on his face, "Oh, right, _he_ doesn't like you either."

Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed, "That's nice. Maybe you should come back some other time when you'll get a reaction. I'm too tired at the moment," she turned slowly and continued down the corridor toward the library. She heard a stunned silence in her wake. A Gryffindor, not taking the bait? Unheard of.

A second later Ginny heard jogging footsteps, and Malfoy's companion stopped in front of her. She lowered her eyes and stepped to the side, but he held out his arm, blocking her path. Ginny looked up in surprise. He looked similar to Malfoy - same slick good looks, whip lean and muscular, same disgusting smirk. His facial features, however, were completely opposite. Dark hair, loose and intentionally disheveled, contrasted with Malfoy's white blonde. His eyes were a golden topaz, warmer but harder than Malfoy's cold grey. The boy's skin had a Mediterranean olive tone, opposed to Malfoy's Scandinavian pale.

Ginny looked at him, resignedly, "I told you, I'm busy. Wait a couple of weeks until I'll get pissed at you," she advised with the tone of a tired babysitter.

The boy's surprised frown shifted to a suspicious smirk, "This isn't the usual Weasley girl," he argued, "Where's the temper? The feistiness?" His eyes sparked, taunting her.

"She's busy. I'm studying," Ginny answered, moving to the side to go past him. He followed her movement, blocking her way again. "I told you, I'm busy," Ginny gazed toward the last corner leading to the library.

"What - need to figure out how to make your own clothing?" Malfoy gazed at her ramshackle outfit, sneering.

Ginny looked down again. "Sure. That's what I'll do," she agreed, absently, trying to push past the other boy's arm.

"Nuh uh," He smiled, coldly. Malfoy moved to the other side of him, blocking Ginny's escape.

"I give up," Ginny sighed, "You win, I lose. Can I go?" she asked, gaze switching between the two Slytherins, not knowing what they wanted from her.

Malfoy feigned thought, "Uh... no." Ginny sighed. "How old are you now, Weaslette? Fourteen?"

"I'm sixteen, Malfoy," she told him, "And I have some potions homework to finish, if you don't mind."

"Oh, but I do mind," He smirked. "Sixteen, did you say? Can't tell with those rags. Want to take them off?"

"No. Thanks for the invite, but I think I'll pass."

"Curious, very curious," The dark boy looked at her, pondering, "No reaction. No red face, no turning to run - not a single snappy come back. Something is very wrong here."

"May I?" Ginny asked, looking from one to the other to pass.

"Of course, little Weasel."

The arms withdrew and Ginny walked by, toward the library. She turned the corner and muttered under her breath, sarcastically, "Thank you mister ferret."

"Excuse me?" A voice came from behind her.

_Oops._ Ginny continued walking, "You are excused," she called back, speeding up and nearing the doors. A heavy hand gripped her shoulder, jerking Ginny to a halt, lurching her back into reality.

"What did you just say?"

Ginny turned to face Malfoy, his hand slipping off, "I said," she repeated, walking slowly backward, "You. Are. Excused." And then she hit something.

"I don't think that's what he meant," the smirk was audible in the boy's voice, rumbling against her back.

"I don't think we've met," Ginny turned, stepping back once, and holding out her hand, "Ginny Weasley."

"Blaise Zabini." He didn't reach for the hand. She dropped it.

"Nice to meet you Blaise. Maybe I'll see you around." She stepped past him, entering the library. She found a table in the back, retrieving the book she needed from the restricted section and sat down with her work, zipping through.

--

"Done, done, and... done." She dotted her last sentence an hour later.

"Let's see..." A pale hand shot down and plucked her essay from the table.

"It's just my potions homework," she explained.

"Well, you don't need _that_," Malfoy moved to rip it apart.

"_Don't_," Ginny ordered. Just the slightest bit of anger began to bubble through her numbness.

His smirk widened, "Ah, _here_ she comes. The _real_ Weasel," he tore a centimeter into the parchment.

"_Expelliarmus,_" Ginny pointed her wand at him, and he shot back into the wall, a look of shock on his face, as she grabbed her paper out of the air. "Just because I'm not going to argue with you doesn't mean I'm going to let you destroy my hours of work."

"You little-" he hissed, stepping forward, but Zabini appeared and held out an arm, keeping him back. He whispered something, too low for Ginny to hear.

"Watch out, Weasley. Another run in like this and you may not be so lucky," he warned, giving his friend's arm a half-hearted push.

"Zabini. Malfoy. In case you haven't noticed; I wasn't the one who started this. _You've_ been _stalking_ me," she pointed out, the rip in her calm slowly growing.

Malfoy snorted, "That's it: detention Weasley."

Ginny's eyes widened in shock and outrage, causing Malfoy's scowl to turn into a wide smirk, "But-" realizing how loud she was, she bit her lower lip, lowering her voice. "You have no right," she said, quietly, her voice shaking, glancing around to make sure no one else was in the library.

"Oh yes I do."

"We're prefects," Zabini added.

"So am I," Ginny growled.

"But you're only thirteen!" Malfoy protested in disbelief.

"I'm sixteen dammit!" Ginny hissed, her hands balling into fists around her wand.

"Prove it." Malfoy crossed his arms, looking at her incredulously.

Did they honestly think she was a fourth year?! Ginny held up her N.E.W.T. level potions textbook.

"Could be an overachiever," Malfoy suggested to his friend, and both shrugged, indifferent.

Ginny was infuriated. "Malfoy," she simmered, voice low, "You made my first year hell. How could you possibly forget that?"

"Are you sure you're a girl? I don't remember any sixth year girls with _sticks up their arses_," Zabini pointed out, "And god knows what's hiding under_ that_ mess," He added, gesturing at her baggy hand-me-downs.

Ginny _used_ to be known for being rash. Reckless. But she had _changed_ for her sixth year. She'd become more mature. Sophisticated. _Wise_. But her next move was anything but.

"Happy now?" She hissed, pulling her sweatshirt back down, and grabbing her things, hightailing it out of the library, furious.

"Man," Blaise looked at Draco once she'd left, surprise and a pleasant shock mirrored in their eyes, "She's a bit of alright."

--

Ginny felt the regret begin to sink through her as she changed into her bikini. How stupid was she - flashing a couple of Slytherins? At least she'd been wearing a nice bra. She sighed, and slipped some of Ron's old shorts and a Chudley Cannons shirt on over her bathing suit. She grabbed her wand, and switched her reading glasses for sunglasses.

She spotted Harry, Ron, and Hermione the moment she could see the lake. They were on a collection of rocks in a shallow inlet, and Ginny smiled, going to meet them.

"Ginny!" Hermione smiled, "You look..." she paused as Ginny slipped off the t-shirt, "...pale. Are you alright?" Her face was surprised.

"Just been inside a lot," Ginny shrugged, wiggling out of her shorts and lying across a warm flat rock. Her skin was nearly white, her freckles standing out like constellations.

"You guys," Harry poked Ron in the shoulder, "Look," he gestured to a spot a hundred meters away, "Quidditch game, c'mon."

"No thanks," Ginny dismissed him, too tired to leave her nice warm rock. She heard the other three leave, and breathed in the quiet.

"Hey Gin."

Ginny opened her eyes, and saw Malcolm Cage leaning over her, grinning. "Hey Malc," she grinned back.

Malcolm was a sixth year Ravenclaw, and Ginny's first boyfriend - before she found out he was gay. But she kept his secret and let him court her to keep himself under wraps. He had longish light brown hair and bright hazel eyes.

"Sit up," he ordered.

She obeyed, facing into the sun, smiling. He sat behind her and began massaging her shoulders. Ginny groaned, letting her head hang down. "Thanks Malc," she muttered, sleepily.

He seemed about to reply, but something cut him off. "Ooh-ooh. One fine bastard at ten o'clock," he whispered.

Ginny glanced to her left and snorted, "Zabini."

"You know him?" Malcolm asked, incredulous.

"Not in the biblical sense, but this morning..." She squinted, trying to figure how to say it, "He happened upon a couple of _'girls'_ he didn't recognize - as the actress said to the bishop."

"You didn't," Malcolm gawped at her.

"Oh yes-" Ginny winced, "I did."

"What happened to wise Ginny? Intellectual Ginny?"

"She was on coffee break," Ginny blushed, "Or maybe out clubbing." To her surprise, Malcolm laughed. "It's not funny!" Ginny protested, hurt.

"Well - imagine his surprise," Malcolm cuckled, "I mean: I may not be straight, but I can appreciate a good pair," He told her, pointedly, "And you, Gin, have them just right."

"Malcolm!" Ginny slapped him gently, blushing. Being the only girl in her family was a problem. And her chest wasn't exactly a topic she was willing to _discuss_ with anybody.

"Honestly, what size are you?"

Ginny's eyes widened, "I'm not telling!" She winced as her voice came out in a shrill squeal.

Malcolm checked her bikini tags before Ginny could fight him off. He sighed, "If I had your body I'd be showing it off. Not hiding it under guy's clothes."

"I don't exactly have a choice," Ginny pointed out.

"Oh yes you do."

Ginny looked surprised. "Really." She deadpanned, sarcastically, "And what is _your_ solution?"

"Just give me some hand-me-downs and your measurements."

"Gladly. But if you make me into a slut, I swear-"

"No worries, darling, I'll have a few things ready by Monday - just give me the password."

Ginny gave it to him, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek as he left. He was a sweetheart. She stretched back out on the rock, letting the heat seep into the very marrow of her bones. Sunlight... such a welcome respite from her regular backdrop of the library and her desk. She flipped onto her stomach, putting her head sideways on her arm pillow. That's when she saw it. A certain white-blonde head turning away from her. Had Malfoy just been... checking her out? Ginny felt bile rising in her throat. But if Zabini's lingering gaze was any indicator, he hadn't been the only one. Ginny was disgusted as the Italian boy's gaze shifted over her. She rolled backwards, tumbling into the warm shallow pool.

Ginny sighed inwardly as she floated on the surface, remembering her parents' directions - chest up, butt up, head down - and let the water lap her sides, enveloping her in liquid sunlight. She smiled, eyes closed.

"Well that's not a bad sight at all," she heard the syrupy smooth voice through the thick haze of the water, and bolted up, placing most of her body underwater.

"You again," she sighed, trying to regain her nonchalance. She couldn't help but be grateful for the water's protection. She didn't like them looking at her - especially not the way they did now.

"Oh please, continue," Zabini gestured to her, smirking, "_We_ won't stop you."

"'We'?" The way he said it, it sounded like an army.

Malfoy gestured, and another group of people crested the rocks. Ginny sunk neck-deep in the water, churning it with her hands. She recognized a few of the Slytherin posse from the Slytherin quidditch team, and some from prefect meetings.

"This is the Head Girl's spot," Ginny said, calmly.

"Says who?" Malfoy asked, sneering.

Ginny waved her wand, sending up a flowing golden script. "Says me." The script formed into the words 'Reserved for Hermione Granger.'

"_Priori incantatum_," Malfoy flicked his wand and the words melted away.

"_Expelliarmus_," Ginny grabbed his wand as it hit the water, then sent up the words again. "You want your wand back in one piece, I advise you to leave," Her face was impassive, neither angry nor smiling - simply blank, "Unless you'd like to speak to the Head Girl yourself?"

"Look, luv," Ginny balked at Zabini's casually used nickname, "We've got a few of our own friends, as well. Like, say, the Head Boy?" he smirked, "So unless you'd like to be reported for trying to reserve unclaimable property, I'd suggest you hurry up and get your freckled arse out of our pool."

"_Your_ pool? Look who's reserving property now," she glared, "And I'd prefer you _not_ make assumptions about my arse."

"Well if you'd like to prove yourself - a la this morning - I'm sure _I_ wouldn't mind," His eyes sparked.

"Once again, I'm gonna have to pass, sorry. Maybe you should ask Parkinson there - she looks about ready to drop trou for anyone," Ginny ducked, quickly swimming into a cove under the rocks as the squish-faced girl dove in to attack her.

The cove was a discovery of her own findings a couple of years before. She had been experimenting with the bubblehead charm, exploring the pools, and had found the small passage to the cove. She came up under the very rocks the Slytherins were standing on, hearing their conversation through the many cracks, and barely managing a view of their faces, at an odd under-angle.

"Where'd she go?" A boy with a slow, deep voice was asking.

"Probably disapparated," Parkinson spat, "Little bitch."

Ginny held back a snort. Apparating and disapparating was impossible on school grounds.

"Well at least we've got the pool." There was a splash as more bodies jumped in.

"It's a shame she's a Weasel," Malfoy sighed, speaking quietly, then chuckled darkly, "Who knew what was hiding under that garbage."

"Who cares? I'd tap that any day," Zabini licked his lips and Ginny shuddered in disgust. _Ewww..._

"You'd bang anything with beestings," Malfoy sniggered.

"Those are no beestings - you have to admit she's beddable."

"She's a Weasel."

"Weasel's can be beddable."

There was a second of pause and they both burst into laughter.

Ginny ducked under water, letting Malfoy's wand float into the pool, and then moved into another tunnel leading to an empty pool, and surfaced in the shade twenty metres away. She shivered, and was about to get out when she realized she didn't have her clothes. She swam back to the underground cove, waiting until she heard the Slytherins leave before returning to the warm pool. She surfaced and climbed out of the inlet, dripping. She lay down on her rock again, sighing with satisfaction as the sun dried her.


	2. Chapter Two: The Coat of the Weasel

Disclaimer: don't own; therefore, don't sue

**Old A/N: **I just noticed the typos in the last chapter, but, unfortunately, no longer have the file on my computer (I have switched comps), so I can't edit it via and am too damn lazy to go through the trouble of reposting the stories altogether. **Edit: **Those mistakes were - hopefully - corrected! I _did_ have time, after all! Huzzah!

**New A/N: **Keep in mind, even though I may acknowledge you as reviewers, that _doesn't mean_ that you're excused from reviewing upcoming chapters! And, yes, if you're a member who adds me to favorite stories or authors, I practically always check out your stuff.

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**Chapter Two - The Coat of the Weasel**

Ginny awoke Monday morning at six o'clock - as usual. She put on a pair of baggy jeans and a BBC t-shirt from Hermione, and then her robes. She was about to go through her checklist for the day, when there was a light tapping at the window. Not wanting anyone else to wake up, she quickly and quietly opened the window, letting the owl in.

"Cosette," Ginny breathed, stroking the snowy owl's head as she took the note from Malcolm.

_Your common room at 6:10 - hurry before I'm caught._

Ginny rushed down the stairs, trying to step quietly, and ran to hug Malcolm in the common room.

"Here you go," he handed her a garbage bag.

"Er... thanks?" Ginny took it, holding it as far away from herself as possible.

"It's your clothes, silly," Malcolm laughed, "The sewing's a little shoddy, but I backed it up with a few holding charms. I was thinking we should try it all on you in the prefect's bathroom."

Ginny quickly ran back upstairs to get her bag, then followed him out to the large gilded bathroom.

"It's mostly casual - some tailored things, but I had some other resources... I couldn't resist."

Ginny could tell what he meant as soon as she opened the bag. "Oh, Malc..." She pulled out the ivory dress.

"It's nothing. I found fabric and all that in the Room of Requirement," he explained, "Try it on, I might need to hem it."

"You didn't need to do this..." Ginny protested as he slipped the silky fabric over her head.

"It's no big deal. Most of it was done yesterday - I told you, I love this stuff." He zipped her dress up, holding her hair away from her neck so it wouldn't catch.

Ginny looked up and gaped. "I love it!" She sighed, looking at her reflection in the wall of mirrors. The dress was a warm ivory tone, flowing down to her knees. She spun and watched the fabric fan and then slowly settle. There was a v-neck, with folds of fabric around it, and short cap sleeves. The waistline hit just below her bust, giving her plenty of movement.

"It's just a sundress," Malcolm blushed at her amazement.

"Where did you get the fabric?" She rubbed it between her fingers, recognizing the texture.

"It was in the Room of Requirement, but I think it's the same fabric used for the curtains in the dormitories," he admitted, "I used a softening spell on the inside... it does need to be taken in a bit..." he put a few marks on the dress with his wand. "I'll have it back to you by Saturday," he assured her as he slipped it off, handing her another outfit.

"What was this?" She asked, looking at the pleated denim skirt curiously.

"Some of your brothers' old jeans," Malcolm explained, "The pleats took me a bit, but that's where magic comes in handy," he grinned in self-satisfaction. "What do you think of the shirt?" He had gathered the side seams of a baby blue t-shirt and ruched it to her sides, fitting the sleeves.

"Is this...?" she looked at it in surprise.

"Granger and Granger dental associates," he answered, "But that logo was awful, I got rid of it."

Ginny took out the last three items - capris, a hoodie, and... "What is this supposed to be?"

Malcolm looked at her from where he was marking the capris. "Shorts."

Ginny looked incredulous, "They're _tiny_," she pointed out.

"No, honey, that's how girls' shorts are _supposed_ to look," he told her.

"But... they don't even come down to my knees!" She held them against her.

"Just try them on. Oh, and beware-" his eyes glinted mischievously, "They don't have an elastic waist."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but tried them on. "They're soft!" She exclaimed, in surprise.

"One of those old t-shirts," he explained, coming over to adjust them.

"What are you-" Ginny protested as he tugged the shorts down.

"They go on your _hips_, not over your bellybutton," he ordered.

Ginny gulped at her reflection. The shorts were... short. They hit mid-thigh, heather grey fabric just barely fitting the dress code. "They're so _short_," she protested, squeaking.

"They make your legs look good," Malcolm argued, "Honestly, it's nothing like what Mama makes."

Malcolm's mother was a muggle fashion designer, hence Malc's sewing at a young age, and taught her son much about design and construction of clothing. But she was eccentric. Her work was couture - aka crazy - and that meant extreme. Her shows had garish makeup and stick thin models, the clothes bright and flamboyant or dark and gothic.

"I guess you're right..." Ginny agreed, doubtfully.

"I'll keep working - you'd better get to breakfast," he hustled her out of the room, back in her hand-me-downs.

-------------------~-------------------

Ginny walked slowly to breakfast, not hungry at all.

"Ginny, where were you? This is the first time you've been late all year," Hermione asked, as Ginny sat next to her.

"Just talking to Malcolm," she explained.

"Oh, are you two getting back together? I saw you with him by the lake over the weekend." Hermione handed her an apple.

"Maybe," Ginny lied, taking a bite.

"You two were so cute, and he's such a gentleman," Hermione nodded her approval.

Ginny swallowed. "Yep," she agreed, "He's sweet."

As soon as the meal was over, Ginny waited for Malc outside of the Great Hall.

"Ah, Weaslette."

"Find a new victim, Malfoy. Preferably one who cares," she droned looking past them at Malcolm's approaching grin.

"But you're so much fun. Such a tease," Zabini smirked, "And my offer still stands-"

"Ginny, there you are," Malcolm pecked her on the cheek, rescuing her. Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, Malc," she smiled, attempting the look of a lovesick adolescent, as she placed his hand on her waist.

"New boyfriend, Weasel?" Malfoy asked, pointedly, "How many is that now?"

"Three. In three years," She told him, simply, "Now, if you will excuse me," she looked at Malcolm, "We have some... business." She tried to look seductive as she pulled Malc toward the dungeons, but the minute they were out of earshot she burst into laughter.

"Are they bothering you? You know about the... thing on Saturday?" Malcolm asked, chuckling with her.

"No more than usual," she lied, not wanting to worry him, "Why are _you_ so excited?" She asked, remembering his grin.

He looked sheepish, "Nothing. I don't even know if it will work..."

"Tell me," Ginny ordered.

"Nope, you'd just get mad at me."

"Come on," she whined, "Just a hint?"

"Not now. Soon though, I promise," he told her, sincerely. "Are we 'back together'?" he asked, as they closed in on the potions room.

"Not officially," Ginny gave him a half smile, "But thanks for playing along." She looked at him, sadly.

"Just don't want to be the fag of Hogwarts," he muttered.

"I know," Ginny stated, quietly, her face red as she felt tears welling in her eyes.

"Oh, don't cry!" Malcolm chuckled, weakly, "It's not _your_ fault..."

"I hate that you have to do this," she sniffled, wiping her nose on her wrist, like a child, "I hate _using_ you."

"Hey," Malcolm looked into her face, "I don't mind. One day when you're famous I can use _you_." He smiled, and wiped her eyes.

"You're gonna be the famous one," she smiled.

-------------------~-------------------

It wasn't until Friday that Ginny got the owl. Malcolm had been refusing to answer her increasingly curious questions, and hadn't returned any of her clothes.

_Finish all work today. Meet me early tomorrow in the RoR - bring more clothes. --M_

Ginny fidgeted all day, losing her focus. Finally, in her last period of the day, she had class with the Ravenclaws.

"Malcolm," Ginny whined, standing right in front of his table, "Tellllll meeeee."

Malcolm grinned, "Ginny: be patient," he ordered.

"But..." Ginny frowned, "For all that I know, you're going to... I don't know. Just tell me, already!" she pleaded.

He smirked, eyes closed. "Patience, grasshopper. You do not chase the fly: the fly will come to you."

Ginny growled, "Thanks, 'sensei,' but I'm not in the mood for philosophy."

"One who holds the stone cannot take it from the jar," Malcolm droned, in a mantra-like tone.

"Seats, everyone," Snape ordered.

Ginny rushed to her seat, still eyeing Malcolm. She _needed_ to know what was up.

"Today we will be working on a metamorphmagus potion." There was some tittering, silenced by Snape's icy glare. "As you all _should_ know, the metamorphmagus potion is illegal. Which is why I will not give you the last ingredient. When I collect your entire cauldrons' contents, I will add the last ingredient on my own. Not a single _drop_ of this potion is to leave this room."

They worked quietly, Ginny frequently sending glances at Malc, who was too absorbed to notice.

"Ginny?" Natalie MacDonald, Ginny's potions partner and fellow Gryffindor, waved a hand at her, "You alright? You seem a little out of it."

"I'm fine, Natty," she smiled, "Just have a bit of an emergency coming up..."

Natalie looked confused. "...Can you just cut that root, please?" She asked, attempting not to offend.

"Oh, my bad." Ginny blushed, laughing, and began to chop up some of the ingredients. Finally, it seemed like they were nearly done. "Aaaand... stop." Ginny watched the time tick by, waiting two minutes. "Finished." She and Natalie raised their hands for Snape's approval.

He looked to be finding any possible flaw, but evidently none could be found. He tipped a small envelope of white powder into the cauldron. Ginny sniffed... no... it couldn't be! The last ingredient was... powdered sugar? "This will do." Snape nodded and flicked his wand to empty the cauldron, "You are dismissed."

Ginny's thoughts blazed in her head as she rushed through her weekend homework. What was Malcolm planning? He was obviously just as excited as she was. It was October first - too chilly to swim... _what was up his sleeve?_

Ginny could barely sleep. Eventually, she cast a sleeping spell upon herself, and could finally rest.

-------------------~-------------------

Ginny finally woke up at five o'clock. She rushed to take a shower, drying her hair with her wand. She pulled on some sweats and her robes, and ran through a list of last minute details. She had a bag of hand-me-downs to take to Malc - check. Her wand - check. Absolutely no idea of what Malc was planning - check. She had made sure she had an excuse - she already knew the prefects who would be on duty.

Ginny exited with her school bag, the bag of hand-me-downs shrunken to fit inside. She left the common room, heading toward the Room of Requirement.

"Ginny!" Allison French sounded shocked, "What are you doing out this early?" Allison was a fifth year prefect from Gryffindor, and knew Ginny from meetings.

"I remembered last night - I left some homework in the library," Ginny lied, "I wanted to make sure I had it - and finished - in time for class."

Allison waved her on, and Ginny relaxed. It wasn't too hard, getting back into the swing of rule-breaking. She found the hall of the Room of Requirement, and spotted a door where there usually wasn't one. She ducked inside, closing the door silently behind her, turned, and gaped.

"Jesus, Malc..." She gazed over the room. It was exactly like the one show she'd seen of Malcolm's Mama. The entire room was white except for the back, where a fluorescently glowing white runway jutted out from a black wall. The floor of the room was filled with racks of clothing - both finished and hand-me-downs. One entire wall was covered in bolts of fabrics, spools of ribbon, and containers of buttons, thread, needles, and other things. The other wall was all shelves of accessories and cosmetics.

"Ginny!" Malc's grin threatened to split his face in two. Ginny could tell that this room provided his lifeblood - art. "Isn't it _perfect_?!" He stood up from where he had been working at a long black table covered in scraps of fabric.

"You're a genius, Malc." Ginny walked cautiously into the room, "But..." She looked more carefully at the clothing on the racks, "... you didn't make all of this."

Malcolm put his arm around her shoulders. "Before you get angry, let me explain." He took her silence as a prompt. "I know you hate charity. But this isn't charity. Mama found a good company - also owned by a witch - that is looking for models. I took the liberty to send a few snapshots Colin took for me..."

"Malcolm!" Ginny admonished, fiercely, "I _don't_ want to be a pity case!"

He covered her mouth until she quieted. "Mama told me when she first saw you she would've taken you if you were skinnier," he told her. Ginny glared, and Malcolm explained, "_Thankfully_, Franz isn't nearly as anorexic as Mama in choice of models. You have the body for it, Gin. She just wants a video of your walk and some test shots with her clothes. I already found a photographer-"

"Colin?" Ginny asked, scowling.

"He may not be a professional, but he's been doing it for years." Malcolm defended himself, "And I knew you wouldn't let me hire someone."

"Malcolm, I can't do this, even if I wanted to. I still have a year of school."

"Just work the Spring and Resort collections, then! You get plenty of benefits - the comps, for one." He gestured at the racks of clothing. "You'll get to keep a good amount of what you wear - nearly ten percent! Well, not the couture stuff, but-"

"Sorry, Malcolm, I can't."

"You're not a pity case. You have _talent_."

"I've never modeled before! I don't even know _how_!"

"You're a natural!" Malcolm argued, "You have poise, posture, attitude," he ticked them off on his fingers, "You walk like a pro in heels, you're skinny and tall, you have a unique look - face it: you were made for this." When she still frowned, Malcolm sighed, "Just give it a chance," he advised, "We've got the clothes till November, anyway."

Ginny took a minute, thinking. "Fine. But only for you and Colin. I'm not keeping the clothes."

"A chance is all I'm asking for." Malcolm began to smile again, "I have some looks made up for you already."

------------------------~------------------------

"No," Ginny pushed the dress away.

"Yes," Malcolm ordered, "If you don't do it yourself, I will wrestle it onto you."

Ginny grudgingly took the hanger, hurrying behind the curtain. As soon as she had it on, she opened the curtain again. Malcolm rushed back over, tugging here, prodding there, tucking and charming here here and here. Ginny stood patiently as he worked the dress - he was a master of the craft.

"Am I late?" The door burst open as Colin entered, carrying three different camera bags and a collapsable set of lights.

"Just in time," Ginny smiled, wryly.

"Colin, help me out here, will you?" Malcolm handed the blonde boy a list, not even looking up from his alterations. Colin read through the list, then muttered a few different incantations, summoning from the shelves.

"Finished!" Minutes later, Malcolm surfaced from his daze, and led Ginny to a mirror.

Again, Ginny gaped, speechless.

Her hair was set in deep waves, darker than usual, and gold and orange was fanned out around her eyes, forming a shimmering mask on her face. Her lips were golden, and a single golden tendril wrapped from her neck down around her left arm. The dress was beautiful. The red silk was woven in criss-cross pattern from the sweetheart neckline to the knees, where a red tulle skirt hung in an A-line. It was strapless, the skirt trailing in the back, but revealing her legs in the front, from mid-thigh to the black velvet pumps she stood in.

There was a snap as Colin took a picture. Ginny glared at him, and he took another.

"That's it, I'm not doing this." She lifted her skirt, moving away from the mirror, and Colin clicked again. "Stop it!" She ordered, angrily.

"They're just pictures," Malcolm drawled as Colin grinned, clicking away, "Come here." He beckoned from the runway, gesturing at a set of stairs.

Ginny reluctantly obeyed, lifting her skirt to climb the stairs, and standing next to Malcolm.

"Now walk. Pose at the end, then walk back," he ordered.

Ginny rolled her eyes, "I feel so _stupid_."

Malcolm pushed her, and she slowly walked, glaring at him as she sloughed to the end, paused, and turned back to him.

"Again," he ordered. She started to move, and he began to yell instruction. "Pop your hips! Straight back! Head up!" He ordered, angrily, "Don't _thud_ - heel, toe, heel, toe." She reluctantly followed his advice, but he stopped her again. "This isn't working. Have _fun_ with it! Here," he clapped his hands, and a thumping dance beat filled the room, "Go little birdie -" He grinned, "Fly! Fly away!"

Ginny finally smiled. She followed his instruction, hitting the runway with a smug look on her model face, and working it.

"Good, good." Malc grinned, "Next outfit."

Ginny didn't mind the next one as much. She spun, letting the beige and green skirt spin. It was a halter with a zippered neckline down to _there_. Everything was candy striped in emerald green and a metallic beige. The skirt was short, with a petticoat of emerald green tulle to keep it sticking out. Colin handed her leather gladiator sandals and gloves as Malcolm worked her hair into a single gold-threaded plait, extending it until it hit the ground. A green painted chain wrapped around her neck, links trailing to her navel.

Ginny had fun with that, and the next outfit, and the next. By the end of the shoot she was psyched for another round. "That was great!" She grinned, clacking her white patent leather thigh-high boots together. She was wearing her last outfit - a purple minidress with a large cut-out - and her hair was in a slick and very tight genie ponytail on the top of her head.

"Ginny..." Malcolm looked guilty.

_Uh oh._ "What?" She asked, warily.

"Truth is... those weren't all Franz's things," Malcolm admitted. Ginny was silent. "Most of them were mine."

That hadn't been what she was expecting. "Really?" She asked in amazement, "You made all of those?"

"Yeah," he grinned, nervously, "And..." he took a deep breath, and his next words came out all at once, "I'musingyouinmycampaigntosellthemonline."

"...what?" Ginny asked, confused, as she changed back into her clothes.

"I'm, er... I'm using your pictures to start selling some of them online." Malcolm refused to meet her eyes.

"Oh..." Ginny looked stunned. "...Okay, I guess."

Malcolm looked astonished, "You're not mad?"

"As long as I get comps," she grinned.

* * *

**Old Review Thanks: [updated to include reviews of Chapter 2]**

-

Zabini fans -

_Cybernetic Mango - _so do I... too bad life just can't work like that.... two alpha males

_RavenclawVampire14_

_kayla_

_Kopycat_

_FangFan22 a.k.a. GwenFan22_

_Soccergirl0388_

_Caramel Wafer_

_kerffylicious-.-'_

_snowfire81_

_Jackie Pappillion_

_elisa_

_Bubbles-ZeeCrzy1_

_Dracoandme - _and, no, I just needed to post it so people searching Ginny/Blaise could find it, too, as the end coupling has yet to be determined =]

_panictowel_

-

Malfoy fans -

_Jamiegirl123_

_redhotchillipeppers - _and props on the name, too =]

_Narcissa Raie_

_Soccergirl0388 _- again =]

_Bubbles-ZeeCrzy1_ - again =]

_tiddlywinx_

_luvsjacob_

**Sorry I took so long, have many more chapters written than typed! Please R&R!**


	3. Chapter Three: The Defensive Mechanisms

**A/N: **At last, here comes chapter 3! And - for those not as in love with fashion as I - there is more Ginny/Blaise, Ginny/Draco action! Fun, fun, fun!

Disclaimer: [insert cheesy disclaimer here]

* * *

**Chapter Three - The Defensive Mechanisms of the Weasel**

**-**

"This will shock them out of their seats, I promise," Malcolm assured Ginny as he finished dressing her, "Now.... open."

Ginny gazed in the mirror, barely recognizing herself (well, that was an overstatement). "Oh. My. God." She turned sideways, admiring the new view. She was wearing a black boob tube (A/N: "tube top") under a bright yellow cropped sweatshirt that hit just under her ribs. Thin black tights covered her legs under teeny golden shorts. "It's.... uh..." She wiggled her toes in the ankle-high fleece boots she was wearing.

"Don't worry - we're just going into Hogsmeade," Malcolm assured her, "I already checked to make sure - the trio is staying here." He was referring to Harry, Hermione, and Ron, who would throw a fit if they saw her like this. "Now come on," he dragged her out of the room before she could form another coherent protest. They raced to the entrance hall, joining the crowd of students waiting to go to Hogsmeade.

"Cheating on the Weasel, Cage?" Malfoy sneered, approaching them.

"Malfoy, I don't think you two have met. Draco Malfoy, meet the new Ginevra Weasley," Malcolm tugged down Ginny's hood, revealing her bright red hair, which she quickly shook to fall over the neckline of the hoodie.

"I'm sorry - I don't associate with _scum_," Ginny smirked.

"Weaslette." Malfoy looked stunned. "You look..."

"I believe the word your friend used was _'beddable.'_" Ginny's smirk turned to a pouting scowl.

"How did you...?"

"I have my ways, Malfoy." Ginny crossed her arms, threateningly, giving Malcolm a glance that meant things were about to get ugly. He left.

"I won't deny the truth," Malfoy leered, "You're a fine piece of skirt."

Ginny shivered as he looked her over like a piece of meat, "You're disgusting," she spat.

"And _you're_ a slut," he replied, easily, "But you could at least have him _pay_ you, I mean you need-"

Ginny slapped him. _Hard_. "No wonder everyone hates you. And I thought it was just your face." She glared at him. Truth was, she knew she was lying. Plenty of girls were in love with him - despite his ass-like womanizing tendencies. And his face wasn't ugly. She raised her hand to slap him again.

"I don't _think_ so," a singsongy voice chimed, as a hand grabbed Ginny's wrist.

"You." Ginny brought up her other hand to slap Zabini, but he plucked it out of the air, easily.

"You don't want to do that," he smirked.

"Au contraire," Ginny leaned toward him, her voice dripping with malice, "I think-" She brought her foot up quickly, delivering a swift but gentle kick to his groin, "I do." Se finished, as he doubled over onto the floor. Shaking her wrists out, she went to Malcolm's waiting carriage, smirking in smug satisfaction.

------------------------~------------------------

"I think I'm in love," Blaise croaked from his seat in the Three Broomsticks.

"No, luv, that's just the painkillers." Pansy gave him a couple light pats on the cheek, rolling her eyes, "That little bitch got you good," she sighed.

"I swear, you're masochistic if you like _her,_" Draco drawled in disgust, rubbing his still smarting cheek. In truth, he could see where Blaise was coming from. She was strong, he had to admit, and didn't mind standing up for herself. She had spirit, and thought fast. She was cute. And when she was mad... dear lord, what was happening to him?

"Dream team entering, stage right," Pansy muttered, bitterly, as the doorbell chimed, announcing the new arrival.

"Ooh, look, they're fighting!" Blaise grabbed his butterbeer, giddily, watching the Potter drama unfold as a child would watch television.

There seemed to be some kind of disagreement among them, but Draco couldn't see what they were talking about. Then they all heard it.

"Ginny!" The older Weasley was roaring at his sister, grabbing her hood as she scowled.

"This just got better," Draco murmured, focusing on the squabble. The Slytherin's casually stood and moved to a closer table, as though they had just come in. They listened, carefully.

"...not acceptable," Ron was saying, face scarlet, "Did _he_ put you up to this?" He pointed an accusatory finger at Malcolm.

Ginny gaped. "...Him?" She asked, uncertainly.

"He's using you, Ginny! He wants to make you his _sex slave_!" Ron moaned, "Oh - my sister! How _could_ you?!"

"Ron..." Ginny couldn't hold it back, and she snorted.

"It's not _funny!_ He only wants you for your body, Gin-"

"_Ron._" Ginny said, more forcefully, holding back her smirk.

"-Not your heart - What?" He asked, still frantic.

Ginny looked to Malcolm for permission. He nodded, solemnly. "He's gay," Ginny stated, simply.

"...What?" Ron blinked, dazed. Even Hermione and Harry looked shocked.

"Malcolm." Ginny clarified, "He's gay."

"You..." Ron worked through this fact in his head, "...You've been kissing a _poof_?!" He roared.

Ginny frowned, "Keep it down, Ron. And I haven't-"

"You broke up with Dean for a _homo_?"

Ginny slapped him, angrily, and Draco touched his own cheek with ginger fingers. Poor Weasley... Ron blinked in shock.

"Malcolm is my best friend, Ron. And he doesn't wan the _world_ to know-" She stopped as Malcolm placed his hand on her arm.

"I'm ready." He sounded like a martyr.

Ginny gulped, his pain in her eyes, "As long as you're sure." She sat back down, ignoring Ron.

"So... you've been bearding him for how long?" Ron asked, still angry, but he remembered the slap.

"I wish you wouldn't use that term," Ginny gritted her teeth, "I've been... _masquerading_ as his girlfriend. For three years."

"Which reminds me!" Hermione quickly stepped between Ron and his sister, trying to lessen the raging tension, "There's going to be a masque ball on Halloween this year!"

"Maybe I'll go as a sex slave," Ginny growled, glaring at Ron and pulling Malcolm behind her as she left.

------------------------~------------------------

"I'm so sorry, Malc," Ginny apologized profusely as they walked to Honeydukes.

Malcolm grinned, "What? I thought you were great!"

"You... you didn't see?" Ginny asked, tentatively.

His smile faltered, "What?"

Ginny looked down, avoiding his trusting gaze. "Er... a few tables away... the Slytherin princes." Ginny used the less-common nickname for Malfoy & Zabini.

Malcolm's smile returned, "Oh, _that's_ all," he sounded relieved.

"What about us?" Malfoy drawled, from behind them. He was standing with Parkinson and Zabini. "Oh - wait," he sneered, raising his voice, "Butts to the wall, men, we have an arse pirate in our midst." There weren't enough people around for him to have made a difference, but Ginny stepped forward, slugging him in the gut. He doubled over, falling back in pain. "What the hell?! Blaise! Why didn't you stop her?!" He noticed his friend's stony look. "...What?"

"My cousin's gay, Draco." Blaise told him, calmly, before kicking him in the ribs.

"Jeezus, Blaise!" Draco grabbed his side in pain, "I'm sorry, okay?" He growled, impatiently.

Blaise ignored him. "Sorry, Cage," he apologized to Malcolm, sincerely, "Draco here-" Blaise plastered a smile as he punctuated his statement with another kick, "-has no empathy."

"Ow!"

Ginny smiled, surprising herself. "Thanks, Blaise," she said, quietly.

"No problem, Red," he smiled back, meeting her eyes.

The moment was broken as Malcolm kicked Draco, "Yeah - thanks." He smiled, crookedly, obviously not thrilled.

Ginny rolled her eyes at Malcolm, grabbing him again. Before she had taken three steps, she paused, biting her lip. Slowly, she turned back to the Slytherins. "Maybe I'll... see you around?" She asked Blaise, hopefully.

Blaise's half smile was leg-melting. "Maybe," he nodded in agreement.

Ginny smirked smugly, and turned back to Malc.

------------------------~------------------------

"You _lied_?!" Draco howled, angrily.

"Well, it _worked_." Blaise shrugged, tossing and catching a little snitch paperweight from Draco's desk.

Draco grabbed it, "So no gay cousin?" he asked, fuming.

"Nope," Blaise grinned.

"You bastard," Draco sat down, still huffing.

"Actually that would be _you_, Mr. Homophobe," Blaise poked him hard in the chest, smugly, "I have absolutely _nothing_ against homosexuals. My cousin may not be gay, but my sister's husband's nephew is."

"And Weasel fell for it," Draco shook his head in disbelief.

"Ah - correction - Red fell for _me,_" Blaise propped his feet up on Draco's desk, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head. "Life," he closed his eyes, "Is _good._" The next thing he knew he was flat on his back, his head throbbing painfully. "What was _that_ for?" He whined, glaring at Draco, who was smirking smugly, his foot resting where the leg of Blaise's chair had last stood.

"The consequences of your lies."

"Like you don't lie?" Blaise barked a laugh.

"I don't need to lie to get a girl to like me."

"But you do to get her to sleep with you."

"Shut up, Blaise."

"_You_, who thinks every girl who comes along is fair play!" Blaise guffawed.

"Please: they all love me."

Blaise snorted, raising an eyebrow skeptically, "Yeah?"

"Name _one_ who doesn't secretly lust after me." Draco smirked, smugly.

"Red." Blaise stole Draco's smirk, parading it.

"And how do _you_ know?"

"Because," Blaise flopped onto Draco's large bed, "The one she's secretly lusting after is... me. Or did you not notice how, while _you_ were being brutally victimized for _my _lies, she was flirting with me?"

"Are you saying she could never like me?"

"That is _exactly_ what I'm saying, my friend."

"I'll bet you."

"What?" Blaise looked surprised, but intrigued.

"100 Gs, I kiss her by... by Halloween." Draco held out his hand for Blaise to shake.

"No," Blaise smirked, "100 Gs _she_ kisses _me_ by Halloween - and _not_ the other way around."

"Same here."

"Deal."

"Deal."

They shook on it.

"If she finds us out, all bets are off."

"Deal."

------------------------~------------------------

"Please, god, _**no**__!_" Ginny pushed the costume away.

"You'll be _cuuuute!_" Malcolm whined, pushing the white furry number at her.

"I'll look like a twee _ferret_. No thank you."

"Please?" Malcolm pouted, eyes shining.

"I draw the line at fur." Ginny stood, stubbornly, glaring at him.

"Would you rather be a salad?" Malcolm asked, hopefully.

"NO."

"Pumpkin?"

"NO."

"Flower?"

"NO."

"Goldfish?"

"Please - _NO_."

"What do you want?" Malcolm asked, finally.

"I don't want to dress up!" Ginny complained.

"But it's a-" a look of epiphany came over Malcolm's face, "Of course..." he muttered to himself, "A _masquerade_..."

Ginny watched in bewilderment as Malcolm walked through racks of clothing, muttering to himself. "Um... what?" She asked, cautiously taking a step toward him, hoping he wouldn't throw another leafy salad dress at her. He didn't.

Malcolm froze. "This. This is it."

Ginny followed him to where he was standing, "Is... is that a _corset_?"

Malcolm rolled his eye, "It's not _just_ a corset. It's a _gown_." He emphasized the word as he pulled out the hanger.

"Wait wait... this is _too_ much," Ginny's eyes widened as she gestured frantically.

But Malcolm's look was set. His eyes sparked, "You're wearing this," he told her, "_And_ you are going to _like_ it." Ginny looked beyond doubtful. "It's not going to be this _exact_ dress," Malcolm prodded, "We can edit it. Add some accessories... maybe switch your look up a bit..."

"_My_ look?" Ginny asked, curious, "What does that mean?"

Malcolm looked at her, "You don't honestly think you'll be unrecognizable with that hair? Change the hair. I was thinking black. Maybe go for the gothic princess look."

"Uh..."

"Oh, come on," Malcolm grinned, "You know you want to see it. Plus - it'll get the Slytherin princes off your back for a night," he added.

"Done," Ginny grinned.

"Great," Malcolm smirked, "Let me fix this baby up and it'll be ready for the party."

------------------------~------------------------

The days had zipped by in Ginny's anticipation. Already it was October 29th.

"Hey, Red."

Ginny turned in surprise. "Zabini," she bit her lip, smirking as her eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Whatever are you doing by the _girls_' bathroom?" She drawled, sarcastically, "You couldn't _possibly_ be here to find _me_. Could you?" She nearly deadpanned, smugly.

"C'mere, Red," Blaise rolled his eyes, beckoning her over.

Ginny swaggered toward him, her hips moving lazily, "Someone's anxious," she chuckled, "What's the question?"

"The dance. Halloween. What're you going as?" He leaned casually backward to lounge on the wall, effortlessly.

Ginny grinned, "I'm not telling."

"C'mon, Red," Blaise whined, slightly, "Just a hint?"

Ginny shook her head, "You'll have to find me yourself," She turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist.

"You get cocky fast," He tugged on her wrist, and she stumbled into his chest.

"No faster than you."

Blaise looked down, eyes playful. When he looked up again, he was looking at her - into her. Ginny's breath caught in her throat, briefly. She knew that look. That 'I'm going to kiss you' look. And she knew that if he did, she wouldn't be able to bring herself to stop him.

He dropped her wrist and slowly inched toward her. Ginny waited until he began to lean in. "...Got to go!" She grinned, walking away.

"You-" He stared after her in open-mouthed shock. "You... you're serious!" He laughed, "I just don't get you, Red," he muttered.

Ginny looked over her shoulder, "A dress."

"What?"

"I'll be wearing a dress," she smirked, "Good luck."

------------------------~------------------------

_Meet me 31st at 6 to get you ready. I have a surprise. - M_

_

* * *

_

**A/N: **Well, there it is. At last, the third chapter. Unlike some of my other stories, these chapters are super super long. Hint: Next chapter is appx 12 pages written. This means it's VERY hard for me to type them up, as I like to do an entire chapter in one sitting.

Thanks to:

_Ravenclaw's Redhead_

Once again, you all make me sad... but I'll forgive you, considering it was only up for a few hours. Still - I see you adding this to story alert, you'd better at least say a little blurb!


	4. Chapter 4: The Chicanery of the Weasel

**Chapter Four: The Chicanery of the Weasel**

**-**

"What do you get for a girl wearing a dress?" Blaise was lounging in the Slytherin common room, tossing his wand up and down.

"I'm gonna need more than that to go on," Pansy stated wryly, "What color is the dress?"

"Dunno," Blaise shrugged, a crookedly smile slowly working its way onto his face.

Pansy rolled her eyes, "Then what color is her hair?" she asked, as though speaking to someone completely daft.

"Red," Blaise grinned.

There was a pause, and Pansy groaned, "You _cannot_ be serious," she scoffed, rolling her eyes, "_Nothing_ looks good on a Weasley."

"Au contraire, my dear," Blaise's grin twisted on one side into a smirk, "I believe Draco and I agree that _many_ things look good on this Weasley... _especially_ nothing."

"I'm sure Draco disagrees," Pansy rolled her eyes, glancing to the blonde, "Don't-" she paused, and a look of shock appeared on her face at his glazed eyes. "Please do _not _ tell me-"

"What?" Draco snapped beck, "No, of course I wasn't thinking about her naked," he shook his head.

Blaise laughed, "And you might want to stop rolling your eyes, Pans, or they'll stick that way. And if they don't, I can always make them."

Pansy looked repulsed, "You two _disgust_ me."

"Yeah, well, between me and your face the feeling is mutual," Draco smirked.

"Enough of this witty banter," Blaise commanded, "We need, one - to figure out what Red's up to; and two - costumes."

"Oh, that part's easy," Pansy commented, "I've got mine, you two can just check the Room of Requirement. I'm sure it's got _loads_ of costumes."

"That," Draco looked at her, both his face and voice conveying surprise, "Is a _decent _ suggestion. Good work, Pans!" He clapped her on the shoulder, patronizingly.

"What a shocker," she glared, monotonous.

"Well, I knew after 17 years _something _knowledgeable would come out of there," he grabbed his bag, "Let's go, Blaise."

"No thanks, man, I gotta figure out Red."

Draco shrugged, "Suit yourself." He exited the common room, empty bag swinging at his side. He walked up the various staircases, making his way to the Room. He froze. There was already a door there.

_I need to get in unnoticed_, he thought, pacing back and forth, concentrating. Something about the door changed. It looked the same, but Draco could inexplicably tell that this door didn't lead to the same place it had a minute ago. He opened the door, cautiously, and found himself in... a closet. "Great," he grumbled, pushing past bolts of fabric to the door.

"Hold still!"

Draco stopped dead in his tracks, and carefully peeked through the keyhole. He thought he'd recognized that voice. Cage was carefully examining a frilly black dress on a black-haired girl. That was strange, he didn't recognize this girl. His surprise was logical, considering she was by no stretch of the imagination ugly, and he always made sure to keep tabs on the cute ones - the Weaslette had been the exception to prove the rule.

"Malcolm, this is way too much."

Something at the back of Draco's mind twitched. That voice... it wasn't one he _usually_ heard, but something itched him about it. Before he could analyze, his question was answered.

"Ginny," Malcolm ordered her, matter-of-factly, "_Nothing_ is too much." He tugged something on her front.

"What's the surprise you said?" Ginny asked, curious.

"I'll tell you when I told you I'd tell you," Malcolm calmly pinned.

Ginny humphed. "...I _reeally_ want to know," she prodded, "Please?"

"Nope." Malcolm sighed, "Well, there you go," he admired his creation, "Out you get."

Draco had to tear his eyes away, modestly - feeling as though the founders' eyes were on him, in this closet. It just wasn't _decent_ being a peeping Tom at the moment. His eyes zipped back when he heard the click of hanger on rack.

"Bottom's up," Malcolm handed Ginny a vial.

"Thanks - cheers," she downed it, and seconds later she was back to her regular, red-headed, freckled self. She kissed him on the cheek, "See you," she gathered her bag and exited.

Draco waited impatiently as Cage sewed and tucked for another ten minutes. Finally, he left, too. Draco waited, in case Cage had forgotten something, then cautiously moved out into the large room. He was immediately overwhelmed by the racks of clothing, which seemed to stretch out for eternity.

He skimmed past the hundreds of racks of women's clothing, and finally found what seemed to be the 'reject' section - nearly half of it menswear.

There. That was it. It wasn't exactly a costume, but if he added a mask... it would do. He grabbed an extra mask for Blaise. Blaise didn't need to know what Draco had seen. For all _he_ knew, Draco knew just as much about Ginny's 'dress' as he did. Draco made sure to get a good look at the dress, too - he wanted to make sure he could find her at the dance.

With a last glance around, Draco returned to the Slytherin common room, making no mention of his informational encounter. He would win this.

* * *

"Too tight," Ginny patted the corset, "My boobs aren't pancakes, Malc."

"Can you breathe?" He asked, briskly.

"Barely."

"Then it's not too tight. And your chest looks luminous. _Voluptuous_."

"Just what I want," Ginny droned, sarcastically, "To have a 'voluptuous bosom' whilst avoiding the two most notable womanizers in the school. This is just fantastic."

"No worries - they won't know it's you," he handed her the little vial, "Drink up."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but swallowed the small vial of metamorphmagus potion. Seconds later she could have been a relative of either of the Princes, with one's coal black hair and the other's glacier grey eyes. Her freckles disappeared, leaving her looking... very un-Weasley.

"Remember how I told you I had a surprise?" Malcolm glanced at her, cautiously.

Ginny nodded, fervently, deathly curious.

"Well... promise not to get mad at me..." He summoned three small boxes; one square and the other two rectangular. He pushed them toward her, nervously. "Go ahead. Open them."

Ginny gave him a suspicious look before opening the shorter rectangular box. Inside the stark white of the box lay a ribbon, like a black stain, with one single crystal disk punctuating the silken length.

"It's a necklace," Malcolm explained, "I thought it would work for a costume - it can tie in a bow in the back with enough left over to - oh, just open the next one."

She did, too in shock to say anything. Inside this rectangular box lay a black fan, the interior folds an icy lavender color. A pearl inlay formed intricate spirals and waves on the front and back wooden panels, and two black feathers hung from the bottom.

"Before you argue-" Malcolm raised his voice over the inevitable protests, "Open the last one," he grinned, nervously.

"...Oh, Malcolm...." Ginny gaped. Inside was the most beautiful mask she'd ever seen. The entire thing was golden - so delicate, Ginny was almost too scared to touch. The shape was reminiscent of a butterfly, with curved sides sprouting swirls of thin gold. The eyes had a cat-like shape, though, and a line of crystals ran from the corner of each nostril, to the inner crease of her eye, over her brow bone, all the way to her temples. From the top of the wing-like corners to the bottom of them a small golden chain was connected, from which two pearls hung. "Malcolm, I can't-"

"Put it on."

When Ginny couldn't bring herself to touch it, in fear of crushing the lace-like gold, Malcolm carefully placed it over her eyes, tying the black silk ribbon behind her head. "You look beautiful," he told her, quietly.

"Malcolm, I can't take this." She felt the pressure building behind her eyes as she slowly untied the mask, "I can't take charity from you - you've done enough for me already."

"But it's not charity-"

"No _gifts_ either.

"It's not a gift," Malcolm's smile, which had been tentative before, now shifted into a full-out grin, "_You_ bought it."

"But... how?"

"With this." Malcolm held out a slip of paper. "Your first paycheck. You got the job!" He hugged her roughly, though careful to avoid the mask, beaming.

Ginny blinked. "I... got the job?" Then the realization hit her. "I got the job. I got the job!" She squealed, hugging Malcolm back, tightly.

Malcolm tried to calm her down. "The stuff wasn't too expensive - plus it was obviously worth it to see-" he froze as the clock struck eight.

"It's starting!" Ginny hurriedly charmed the mask to her face, and the ribbons disappeared. She tied on the necklace and grabbed the fan, "See you!" She gave Malcolm a quick peck on the cheek, running out the door. If only her prince could find her before midnight - her Cinderella story would be complete.

**(A/N: **Pictures of the mask can be found on my profile.)

* * *

"How do I look?" Pansy twirled for them, grinning.

"Like a peacock."

"Ha! That's _exactly_ what I was going for," Pansy flounced to the couch, wedging herself between her boys.

Her skirt was a metallic blue-green with a white panel, and the bodice was fitted with a matching white stripe, forming an hourglass shape, and no straps. At the small of her back, a train of long peacock feathers spread like a skirt, and her mask had a pointed beak and a crown-like crest of five feathers of varying lengths. Her blonde hair was curled into ringlets, cascading with more grace than she had ever shown herself.

"You do know it's the _male_ peacocks with all the colors, right?" Blaise smirked, charming on his own half-face mask (a pure white that gave perfect contrast to his golden skin).

Pansy hit him, "Why must you two always ruin my fun?" She pouted, "I don't know why I'm still friends with you."

"Because you find us undeniably sexy, don't you?" Blaise grinned as Pansy's scowl slowly turned up to a smirk.

"No," she rolled her eyes, sarcastic, "That's why I've dated _both_ of you."

"Shall we?" Draco stood, pulling Pansy up as well, "An hour seems reasonably 'fashionably late,' don't you agree?"

"Boys?" Pansy smirked as she snapped her fingers for them, taking one on each arm as they escorted her down to the Great Hall.

* * *

The dance had been arranged with a scattered curfew: first and second years leaving at 10:00, third years at 10:45, fourth years 11:15, fifth years 11:45, and sixth and seventh years 12:30.

The hall was pounding with music when the Slytherins entered, and people were just starting to actually dance.

"Where's Red..." Blaise murmured, scanning the crowd for her shock of scarlet.

"Remember - _tonight_, before Halloween's over," Draco reminded him, looking for the dress he knew she'd been wearing. What he saw, shocked him in a fairly unpleasant manner. Red, dancing with... Potter?! Well, he'd have to bide his time, that was all.

"Doesn't look like she's here yet," Blaise shrugged, following Pansy to a table as the current residents scattered. Draco shot a last angry look at Potter. The prat couldn't even _dance_.

"Guess not." He joined them, growling at a couple of third years, who quickly retreated.

"Well, as long as we're waiting - dear lord, is that the mudblood? What _died_ in her hair?" Pansy looked repulsed, staring at where Granger was dancing with the older Weasley, her hair piled into a high tower on her head.

"It was the style... three centuries ago," Blaise shrugged. She must've been going for the Marie Antoinette look. She wore a huge baby blue frilly _mess_ with a humongous hoop skirt, and a white eye mask. She was dancing with Weasley, who apparently had attempted to look dapper in a bright red soldier's uniform, but only succeeded in clashing his costume with his hair (and his face, which was blushing awfully).

They casually trashed others' costumes for a fair amount of time, once or twice dancing with each other, if only for the sake of waking up their sleeping limbs. Time passed only slightly faster than it had seemed, and they noticed as each group left, one by one, until finally, the fifth years were being ushered out, leaving just the sixth and seventh years.

Draco had been watching the youngest Weasley all night. She'd only danced with five students - one of which was Potter, and another Cage. Now, she was sitting at a nearby table, fanning herself with a fan she obviously couldn't afford.

"Where the _hell_ is she?" Blaise was getting angry, eyes darting over the dance floor and tables.

"If you'll excuse me," Draco stood, wandering casually around the room. When he looked back at Red... she wasn't there. He stood still for a moment, eyes scanning for the black dress... finally he saw her, dancing with Potter _again_. He casually walked a bit closer, observing.

"...I'll be right back," Ginny smiled apologetically at Harry. She summoned her fan from her table and glanced around briefly before stepping out to the garden-esque terrace area.

Draco followed.

Ginny stared out at the starry night, admiring the fantastic work they had done on the gardens to create a hedge maze of rose bushes. She moved down to examine it, barely noticing the black-clad shadow behind her - though she _did_ notice something amiss. To be safe, she entered the maze.

She was somewhat disappointed Blaise hadn't found her yet. She'd been sitting right by him... maybe she should've given him more clues. She mentally shrugged off her indecision, and turned back, making her way toward the school once more. But before she could enter back through the terrace entrance, a hand shot out from the shadows. It wrapped around her waist, another hand covering her mouth, and before she could cry out she'd been pulled into the shadows as well, her back to her captor.

"I know your secret."

Ginny shivered. She recognized the voice, though she couldn't quite place it, as it was hushed. Was it Blaise? Her heart leapt. He'd done it. He'd found her. She knew he could do it. She reached her hands up to pry his hand off her mouth, but he adjusted lightning fast, pinning her arms to her sides.

"Promise not to call out?" he asked, quietly, moving them both farther away from the entrance, into a dark niche in the castle wall.

Ginny hesitated, but nodded, slowly, somewhat disquieted. His hand dropped and took her wand from her waist before returning - empty - to add another layer of restraint to her torso. "Who are you?" She whispered, trying to keep her voice from shaking. Her whole body was thrilling. Her heart pumped adrenaline through her system, sharpening her senses to a deadly point. She was scared, but also excited. She loved danger - especially dangerous romance.

"Your prince."

Her heart thudded against her ribcage once more. "Please don't make me guess," she pleaded, breathless.

"You don't have to."

Ginny's heart melted, her fear dropping like a sheet, unveiling her relief. "I knew you'd come."

There was silence from behind her, and for a moment, Ginny's pulse stopped altogether.

"I..." she sensed a strange emotion - one she'd never heard in this voice - something akin to... guilt? "I don't think I am who you think I am." He spoke slowly, and Ginny shivered again, feeling his voice vibrate through her bones, "But... I could be who you want _him_ to be."

Distantly, as though it was in some other life, Ginny heard a clock striking. "Who _are_ you?" She asked again, surprising herself, even, with the sudden volume, more desperate. If he wasn't who she thought he was... she could be in more than just fun danger. She could be in _real_ danger.

His hand covered her mouth again, and they both turned as he checked to see if anyone had heard her.

Ginny's blood pressure rose and she struggled against him, frantically. His hand slipped, covering her nose, and for a frightening minute she couldn't breathe.

"Calm down!" He hissed, holding her tighter as she kicked and bit and flailed, her vision blurring both with fright and lack of air.

She recognized him now. Or, at least, she thought she did.

"Ginny! I told you to stop it!"

The lack of oxygen twisted her mind around the words, distorting them until she was sure it was him, she was sure she heard him... Tom. She screamed, but there was barely enough strength - let alone enough air - for it to escape. This was it. _He's got me,_ she thought, hopelessly, _he's finally done what he tried to do five years ago. I'm dying...._

"So melodramatic," he grumbled.

Again the words were twisted in her head - but now her head throbbed - her throat burned - she couldn't see....

Draco loosened his grip the moment she stopped struggling. "I _told_ you I wouldn't..." but something was wrong, she was leaning against him - falling against him. He let her go and she folded to the ground, unmoving, out-of-character black hair spread like a puddle of black blood around her still body. "...Shit." He moved to his knees beside her, suddenly nervous. He'd promised himself he would never have blood on his hands - never. And if she was hurt... he'd never forgive himself.

His mind raced, his position attempting to overwhelm him as his brain cast a coldly omniscient view over it all. Finally, he recalled one of the few wandless defense and safety moves everyone was required to learn in sixth year defense: CPR. He pushed his guilt out of his mind as he loosened her bodice - just enough to let her breathe easily, mind, and no more - and, carefully, tilted her head back, hands brushing over the smooth pale neck, somehow not nearly as appealing as her regular freckled one. He nervously bent over her, and some part of his mind observed, wryly, that it was the one time he'd ever been nervous about kissing a girl. He closed her nose, gently, and breathed into her mouth, then listened. His own pulse was crowding all other sound out from his mind, but he was able to hear just the faintest breath, and could feel it on his cheek. "...Ginny?" he asked, quietly.

Her chest began to raise painstakingly again, "Tom..." she murmured, barely moving her mouth, but beginning deeper breaths, "You got what you wanted. I'm dead. Now leave me alone..." She spoke weakly, voice barely above a whisper.

"...Who's Tom?" Draco asked, equally quietly.

Ginny's eyes fluttered open slowly, eyelids heavy, her vision a blurred mess of dark shadows. "You're not Tom." She stated, her voice a bit stronger, less raspy. She blinked several times, trying to get her eyes back into focus.

Draco smiled, relieved. "No," he helped her to sit up, propping her against the wall.

Ginny looked at him in open confusion as he crouched next to her, checking her temperature. "...Draco?"

It was his turn to look surprised. "That's the first time you ever-" he was cut off as her lips covered his.

"Thank you," she whispered, pulling away, a light blush tinging her cheeks.

"-called me by my first name," he finished, stunned.

"I have to get back, Harry and them will worry-" She stood carefully, regaining her balance, and rushed back into the dance. Her mind was buzzing in her ears. She checked the clock - 12:15. Glancing around the room, she caught a pair of golden eyes. He started toward her, and Ginny couldn't help the tentative smile creeping its way onto the face she wore, but wasn't hers.

"Finally," Blaise slipped her hands around her waist and she around his neck.

"How'd you know it was me?" she asked, quietly.

He grinned, and held up her locket. "It fell off when you were dancing with Potter. I tried to find you out in the garden, but you'd gone."

Ginny smiled and stood up on her tiptoes, kissing him gently.

He smirked, widely, against her lips, and lifted her up, spinning her like a little girl.

Ginny laughed. "You're so sweet..." she beamed, but her smile faltered as she saw another Slytherin Prince entering.

"What?" Blaise turned, but Ginny brought his face back to hers, kissing him again.

They were so different. Draco was passionate, dramatic, dangerous - but Blaise was cute, and sweet, and fun... As she caught Draco's eyes she felt her heart rip a little more by the flicker of hurt in them. She pulled away. "I... I should go," she smiled, trying to hide the sudden throb of pain she felt, and let out a light laugh, "I have to get _this_ contraption off before curfew," she gestured at the dress.

"I could help," Blaise suggested, eyes gleaming.

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Thanks, but no thanks."

On her way to the common room Ginny couldn't help but analyze the two. She couldn't bear to ruin their friendship... maybe it would be better if she avoided both of them... go back to how it was before. Maybe she could give up the clothes, and the modeling, and the flirting... but she didn't want to.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, there it is: chapter four. This _may_ be the last fully completed chapter I have, I can't remember.... I don't plan to check, because I'm going to work on typing up whatever I have left, anyway, and don't want to lose my interest in _typing_ it by having already read it so soon. If the next chapter isn't complete, I can promise that I _will_ complete it. =D

Thanks to:

_Caramel Wafer_

_Nacilme_

_Jamiegirl123_

_panictowel_

_Ravenclaw's Redhead_

_Narcissa Raie_

Love to all!


	5. Chapter 5: The Predators of the Weasel

**A/N: **Okay, so this one was kinda long -- but it covers loverly action (both the sexual and the violent).

**

* * *

Chapter Five: The Predators of the Weasel**

**-**

"So... we both lost."

Draco was in shock.

"I can't believe she kissed you," Blaise reiterated, twirling his wand between his fingers and staring at it, intensely.

"To your credit, it wasn't much of a kiss," Draco admitted, halfheartedly.

"Do mine ears deceive me?" Blaise sat up, eyes suddenly on the lounging Draco, "Is the Gift of God, Draco 'fuck me' Malfoy, admitting-" he leaned forward, acting as though he heard something faint, "Yes... yes, that's it: she did _not_ throw herself at him!" He raised his hands, gesturing to the empty common room like a referee announcing a winning goal.

"How witty," Draco droned, a smirk slowly spreading across his features, reluctantly.

Blaise met his smirk with one of his own, "What can I say? Even _you_ know she doesn't like you. And with your pigheaded stupidity - _that's_ some accomplishment." His face was more open - relieved.

"Hm." Draco made a sound of absent-minded agreement, troubled by his friend's words. The night before... there had been something there. Just under their calm exteriors, an energy had bubbled up between him and the youngest Weasley. "Huh?" He looked up as Blaise waved a hand in front of his face.

"You okay, mate?" He asked, only slightly concerned, "I was just saying I was was going to finish up some muggle studies work in the library."

"Yeah, fine. See you at dinner," Draco waved him off, already preoccupied.

Blaise gathered up his bag, hiding his smirk as he left the Slytherin common room. A little birdie (well, alright, maybe an extendable ear) had told him a certain redhead would be at the library that afternoon, and it was time he claimed his territory.

Pausing by the potions rooms on his way to the stairs, Blaise ducked into an alcove, grinning at his luck.

--

Ginny barely listened to Snape droning on and on. Detention, detention... the first of the year. It wasn't a surprise - she'd been a good 10 minutes late for class after helping Malc with some of his clothes. Still... detention on a Saturday afternoon?

"...Is that clear Miss Weasley?" Snape glared at her, though not as harshly as he could have. Ginny was a consistently good potion maker.

"Yes, Professor," Ginny responded automatically, trying to remember what he had said.

"Good. I expect to have a fully organized desk - alphabetical, don't forget - when I return. Now," he held out a hand, and Ginny reluctantly handed him her wand. "I will see you at four."

Ginny looked at the clock as he exited. It was only 2:15. She sighed, and approached the desk - piled high with essays and papers - warily. Assessing the situation grimly, she pulled her hair back into a loose bun, tucking the excess strands behind her ears.

She cleared off the desk first, moving all the piles to desks and sorting them by assignment or subject. Rolling up her sleeves, she crouched to retrieve the files stacked under the desk.

"Lovely view today, isn't it?"

Ginny grimaced, and straightened. "What do you want, Zabini?" She asked, sighing.

He looked surprised, "I was hoping to continue our... engagement of last night," he stated, nonchalantly, his fingers reaching to brush her skin.

Ginny moved away before he could touch her. "About that. I don't think it's going to work," she stated, bluntly. "Now, I've got detention to serve."

Blaise flicked his wand, sending the files into their proper drawers, "You sure?" He smirked.

Ginny pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. "I'd prefer you didn't interfere," she glared at him, "Now leave, before I do something drastic."

His golden eyes sparked as he raised an eyebrow, chuckling. "Empty threats," he dismissed her, stepping forward again.

Ginny took another step back, getting angrier. "I told you, Zabini: it's over. Go back to being the perverted prick you are."

Blaise grinned, "I missed this side of you," he admitted, stepping forward yet again, "You're so cute when you're angry...." he murmured, reaching up.

Ginny slapped his hand away from her cheek, feeling her face redden - partly in fury, and partly in embarrassment, "Well, you'll miss it a lot worse when you never see me again. I'm going out with someone else," she lied.

For a second, a look of shock lit upon Blaise's angelic face, before being replaced by joking suspicion. He took another step toward her, examining her blushing face, "Draco?" He asked, tentatively.

Ginny shook her head, stepping back to find herself nearly sitting on the desk. Her mind raced, trying to come up with a believable lie. "Harry," she blurted.

"And last night?" He asked, suspiciously, taking one last step to pin her to the desk.

"It was late," she shrugged, avoiding his eyes, "I was giddy - I got a little carried away. Harry was a gentleman - he asked me to be his girlfriend this morning." She wore her lie carefully, reminding herself to tell Harry of this as soon as possible.

Blaise's hips dug into hers as he pushed her against the desk, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him. His eyes smoldered like molten gold, but there was an uncertainty clearly visible. "I don't believe you," he murmured, warm breath dancing down Ginny's cheek and neck.

"Well - you should," Ginny whispered, suddenly at a loss for breath, caught in his burning gaze. She leaned back. To her surprise, he grinned evilly, leaning toward her again, as she leaned farther back to avoid him.

"All the sweeter then," he murmured, taking her wrists in his warm, steady hold.

Suddenly, Ginny's knees gave way, and she fell onto the desk, blushing furiously. She opened her mouth a couple of times, barely able to form thoughts, let alone sentences, in her position.

Blaise smiled mischievously, holding her wrists to the desk as he bent over her. Ginny couldn't help but shake slightly as he leaned in, placing his lips by her neck, under her ear. She froze, eyes wide in panic. "I've got Potter's girl."

Ginny fought to breathe, not daring to meet his eyes, but feeling his smile against her skin.

"Unless," he murmured against her neck, before skimming his mouth along her cheek, catching her eyes and holding them, possessively, "You don't tell him."

His voice was irresistible so close to her ear, and she couldn't hold back her shudder. "I-" she choked, trying to form a coherent word or two in her Blaise-induced shock, "I-"

He smirked, and let his lips hover tantalizingly over hers. "Good girl," he breathed, kissing her. She could feel his satisfied grin against her own lips.

Ginny froze. Blaise moved back, his eyes warm - like puddles of golden syrup - as he looked at her. "Um..." She felt herself blushing as her voice cracked, "I... uh..."

Blaise smiled, sheepishly, letting go of her and leaning against the opposite wall. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself."

Ginny didn't even try to stand, too scared her knees wouldn't hold her up. She felt like jello - or like ice cream; with his warm eyes making her melt. "It's, um.. well..." She pulled herself so she was sitting on the desk, and suddenly her eyes widened. She blinked. A giggle bubbled out of her throat, followed by full-out laughter.

"Am I that awful?" Blaise asked, amused by her sudden hysterics.

"It's just-" Ginny took a deep breath, grinning, and raising her eyebrows skeptically, "We just kissed on Snape's desk." She collapsed into giggles again.

Blaise's face was shocked, and then twisted into half disgust, "...Ew.""

"But seriously," Ginny straightened, feeling more herself, as she frowned, "This has to end."

Blaise's lips twisted into a sly grin, "I'm an adolescent male: I can't be held responsible for my actions driven by lust."

Ginny cocked her head to the side, scowling, "Then I can't be held responsible when you end up floating down the Thames with about 50 knives in you."

Blaise winced, "Not a pleasant image."

"I'm pretty sure death by angry mob of Gryffindors isn't supposed to be pleasant," she reminded him, wryly.

"True, true..."

"...I suppose I'm done here," Ginny sat, feeling awkward. She stiffened as Blaise stepped toward her, "If you kiss me again, I cannot assure the well being of your anatomy," she warned, "And you know you couldn't stand a chance if I had my wand."

Blaise leaned against the wall again, looking as though he had only moved to readjust his position, "That _was_ part of the appeal, I admit," he smiled, "With a wand in your hand you're an entirely different level of 'dangerous.' One I'd prefer not to offend."

Ginny couldn't help but indulge in a self-satisfied smile. "Ten times worse with my brothers and Harry and Hermione behind me," she added, "We'd kick your sorry arse before you could depart some stupidly witty banter." She smirked at him.

"Ah, yes, stupidly witty banter; my specialty," he grinned, "That and-"

"What time is it?" Ginny interrupted, not in the mood for another cheap pick-up.

Blaise checked his watch, "3:30." At her surprised look, he added, "Why? I've only been here for ten minutes - less, actually. Snape left at 2:30, I hid my stuff and wasted time, came in here at 3:22."

"Huh," Ginny blinked, then shook her head, "See you around, Zabini." She dismissed him, gesturing to the door, pointedly.

He grinned, brushing a hand across her knee as he passed. He paused at the door, "And you can have your fun with Potter... for now." He gave her a mysterious smirk, before closing the door behind him.

Ginny sighed, laughing and shaking her head. "You're crazy, Blaise Zabini, absolutely crazy..." she muttered in amusement. She occupied herself with checking all of the cabinets for the next half hour - realizing Zabini had charmed them into perfect order.

"Finished, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny jumped, turning to where Snape had entered silently, "Yes, sir. Just finished."

He leveled his beady black eyes at her, before nodding. "Very well. You may go," he handed her her wands as she left, "I would prefer _not_ to see you again." The meaning in his words was clear.

"Yes, Professor," Ginny mumbled, ducking her face as she blushed in embarrassment.

As soon as she was out of the corridor, Ginny leaned against a wall, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Ginny!"

Ginny's eyes snapped open, and she blinked, getting used to the light (or lack thereof). She smiled, uncertainly, "Harry, Hermione..." she glared at her brother, "Ron."

"We just saw Zabini..." Harry flushed, tucking the Marauder's Map into his robes, "Er... well, we just wanted to make sure you were alright," he amended himself.

"I'm fine," Ginny assured him, "Zabini was just being a prick - as usual."

"You know, Gin," Ron gave her a confidential look, "If he's.... you know... you just tell us."

"Actually, I kind of have to ask _you_ something, Harry..."

--

"You're the best, Harry," Ginny assured him, once he'd agreed to cover her, "Thanks _so_ much. A few well-timed public appearances - meals, maybe a quidditch game or free period or two - and they'll get off my case."

"No problem, Gin," Harry nodded, leaning over the couch, feet up on her lap as per usual Trio + Ginny time, "We all know they deserve a shock or two."

"And Ron's half ecstatic, half murderous," Ginny mused, watching her brother talking to Hermione on the opposite couch. She lowered her voice, muttering to Harry, "How long until they become an item?"

"Hermione and Ron?" Harry looked surprised, but then, watching them, he seemed to see the different way they were talking and sitting... "Dunno. I never really realized," he admitted, "I always thought they were complete opposites."

"Opposites attract..." Ginny mused, quietly, thinking of two pairs of metallic eyes.

"Hm?" Harry leaned closer, "What'd you say?"

"Obviously. They're so different..." she edited. She jumped a little as her watch beeped. "Supper time," she called, just loud enough to pull Ron and Hermione out of their discussion. This was her debut.

She gently pushed Harry's feet off of her lap, standing up. She'd chosen the sluttiest of Malc's outfits (that was still reasonably classy and autumn-safe). She'd pinned up the blue ruched shirt Malc had made at the beginning, letting it hit a good inch above the waist of her jean miniskirt. To keep herself warm, she'd also slipped on a pair of thigh-high white leggings and a cropped leather jacket. To assure her brother of her remaining wholesomeness, she'd pulled her hair back with a golden ribbon, tied in a bow by her ear, and had stuck with trainers instead of heels.

"Shall we?" Ginny gestured to the portrait hole, and the four made their way down to the Great Hall.

Ginny made sure that she and Harry were in plain view of the notorious gossips as they entered, and sat at the Gryffindor table, across from Hermione and Ron. It wasn't unusual for the four of them to sit together, but Ginny made sure to up the 'huh?' factor by leaning against Harry's shoulder, or looking at him while others talked.

"There's Hogsmeade next weekend," Hermione reminded them, "You should go together."

Ginny nodded, "Maybe shopping and lunch?" She suggested, looking at Harry expectantly.

Harry was only a couple of centimeters taller than Ginny's modelesque height - still dwarfed by Ron's six-foot-seven frame. He may not have had the strikingly handsome features of the Slytherin Princes, but his good looks were warmer. To the Princes' sharp features, Harry's were muted - ruddy skin, warm green eyes, and a smile all girls agreed was heart-melting.

Harry intertwined his fingers with Ginny's, leaning in to be heard over the meal, "Anywhere but Madame Puttifoots'," he muttered in her ear.

Ginny laughed, "I wholeheartedly agree," she grinned, "What say you: Three Broomsticks and Honeydukes?" She suggested.

Harry nodded, smiling, "Sounds good. We should meet in the entrance hall."

Ginny's eye was caught by Malcolm's stare, "Be right back," she climbed out of the table's bench, and clumsily kissed Harry on the cheek, before walking over to the Ravenclaw table.

"You and Harry?" Malc asked, trying to hide his excitement.

Ginny smiled, and looked for eavesdroppers before leaning in to whisper to Malc, "Zabini was annoying me about it, so I told him I was going out with Harry. He's really sweet, helping me out with this," she glanced to Harry, who was back in discussion with Hermione and Ron.

"Ooh," Malc nodded in understanding, "Well, I must commend your use of the understated slutty," he grinned, "Most girls can't pull off the white thigh-highs, but you've got it down pat." He gave her a thumbs up, "Now scurry back to your boyfriend," he chuckled, pushing her away.

Ginny rolled her eyes at him, but walked back to the Gryffindor table. Glancing around, she realized more people were watching than she'd thought. A couple of scathing looks from jealous fifth and fourth years bored into her from other tables, as she slid back down, next to Harry. Even a couple of Gryffindors gave her dirty looks.

Harry leaned toward her, murmuring in her ear, "Looks like your plan is working." Of course, she hadn't told the Trio the truth - merely that se wanted Harry to back her up and make sure the Slytherin Princes stopped tormenting her. She conveniently forgot to mention the whole kissing aspect.

She glanced at the Slytherin table, glad to see Zabini and Malfoy both staring - faces both shocked and a little angry. Luckily, Harry only saw shock and disappointment.

"Are you sure you're not making yourself more of a target?" He asked her, concernedly.

"Harry." Ginny gave him a sarcastic smile, before laughing and hugging his shoulder, "If anything _you're_ becoming more of a target," she pointed out, looking up at him from under her eyelashes.

"Yeah, but I deal with them all the time," he pointed out, "The more you hang out with me the _worse_ they'll be."

Ginny pulled herself into his chest. "Trust me," she assured him, "You'll be like my white knight," she tried to convince him, chocolaty eyes making it hard for him to disagree. "And my guess is that you'll get _less_ crap from one of them-" she paused, wondering if Malfoy would go the sneaky route like Zabini would, "-though maybe more from the other," she admitted, reluctantly. "But if you slug 'em, you can say you were defending my virtue!" She pointed out, grinning, "I can work up a nasty flood of tears when necessary."

"I'm headed to the library," Hermione announced, standing.

"I guess I'll go to the common room, then," Harry began to stand up.

Ginny gave him a look, and he quickly offered a hand, helping her stand up. "I'll come too, then," she added, and Ron quickly stood up as well, as they all exited the hall.

They were making their way down the hall, joking and talking about whatever happened to pop into their minds, when Ron and Hermione decided to study _together_.

Ginny sent a smug look sideways at Harry, and as soon as they were out of earshot, peeped up, "The wondrous studying of each other's _anatomy_?" singsongingly.

Harry gaped at her, then laughed, his arm around her shoulders, "Whatever they're doing, just leave them to it."

Ginny laughed as well, letting her arm loop around his waist, comfortably.

"Hmm..." Harry was looking forward, eyes narrowed, as his smile fell into a frown.

Ginny looked up as well, and soon was scowling, too. "What do you want, Malfoy?" She asked, coldly.

Zabini must've told Malfoy the same thing Ginny had told him, as he was back to the same snide cold prick he always was. "Just... viewing the eye candy," he licked his lips suggestively as he looked at her.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry ordered, taking a step forward as his arm dropped from around Ginny's shocked frozen body.

"Better step back, Potter, or someone may steal your toy," he sneered, eyes barely flickering off of Ginny's form.

"I'm _not_ a toy," Ginny insisted, her voice quieter than she would've liked.

"Really." It wasn't a question, more like an incredulous statement, accompanied by a roll of those silvery eyes.

"I told you to shut _up_ about her," Harry raised his wand, threateningly, voice louder, but not yet a shout.

"I'll talk about whoever I damn well please, Pot head," he drawled, twirling his own wand between his slender pale fingers. The same fingers Ginny had felt leave cold trails over her shoulders as he'd helped her up. "And if I want to talk about your _toy_, I'll talk about your _toy_," he sneered.

Ginny's shock melted away with her newly found rage. "I _told_ you," her voice was louder, even, than Harry's had been, instilled with the confidence she'd attempted before, "I'm _not_ his _toy_."

Malfoy lowered his eyes, chuckling darkly, "You keep telling yourself that, Weaslette."

By now both Ginny and Harry were flushed with rage. "Shut your goddamn face, Malfoy!" Ginny shouted, biting her lip until it bled, as tears of anger began to well up in her eyes.

"Bet you _love_ this girl's tongue, don't you, Potter? One really double-edged sword." As were his words - two very _different_ meanings for one simple phrase.

Before another word could escape Malfoy's despicably perfect lips, Harry's wand flashed - and Malfoy's wand flew out of his hands, clattering across the floor.

He barely seemed to take notice. "Oh, so _that's_ how it is with you two," he leered, "No... _contact_." The word slipped from his lips like disastrous sludge, heavy with implications, "But if _I_ were you, Potter, I'd have Weaslette, here, bent-"

Before he could finish his sentence, both Harry and Ginny were attacking him, brutally pounding fists into his flesh.

"Wait - Ginny?" Harry paused, standing away, as he looked on in shock.

"You-" Ginny grabbed Malfoy's hair, yanking his head back, "slimy-" she thrust her other hand against his chest, punching him with as much strength as she could muster, "Bastard!" Before she could scratch out his eyes (as was her planned next move), Harry had pulled her off of Malfoy's shocked (and thoroughly abused) body, surprising even himself.

"Holy," was the only word Malfoy uttered, still sprawled on the ground, eyebrows and jaw in two very different, opposite realms.

"You talk about my tongue _one more time_-" Ginny fought against Harry's arms in vain, flexing her fingers restlessly.

"Ginny!" Harry shook her, gently, turning her to face him, trying to calm her down.

About the same time Ginny calmed, Malfoy was finally standing again. Keeping her eyes locked with Harry's, forcing herself to breathe evenly, Ginny leaned against the stone corner. Malfoy brushed himself off, silently, fuming slightly. But as he passed her, a smirk blossomed, quiet words escaping his lips, "There are other parts of you to talk about."

Ginny's fists clenched, but she forced herself to stay calm, a string of curses running through her head, illuminating her mind with some very colorful imagery.

--

"That rat bastard," Ginny seethed in the Common Room, jaw still clenched.

"You know, Gin, I never thought I'd say this, but you really need to lay off Malfoy," Harry told her, smiling, "I mean - it's not that I don't totally agree," he grinned, putting his arm around her as another group of Gryffindors entered, "But sometimes it really _is_ beneficial to just ignore it."

Ginny breathed deeply, the smell of the Common Room and Harry's skin helping to comfort her. Finally, she smiled. "I guess you're right," she sighed, "He's not worth it."

Harry squeezed her shoulder, comfortingly. "Besides, I think he'll be wary to get too close to you after your little attack on him."

Ginny laughed, lightly, "The look on his face was _hilarious_," she admitted.

"You're a spitfire," Harry ruffled her hair, affectionately.

She leaned into his shoulder, thinking. "So, is it worth it?" She whispered, staring at the fire as the flames licked wood, spitting and crackling.

"You tell me," he murmured, smiling into her hair, "I have a feeling you're the judge for this - even Malfoy knows it," he chuckled.

"Hmm." Ginny smiled, adjusting herself to lay across his lap, closing her eyes. "I'm happy for whoever ends up your _real_ girlfriend," she told him, quietly.

"Me, too." Herry stroked her hair, automatically.

* * *

**A/N: **Review thanks:

_Nacilme_

_Kopycat_

_Jamiegirl123_

_.xx_

_Ravenclaw's Redhead_

_Narcissa Raie_

_Caramel Wafer_

Thanks to all! I hope you checked out my profile for the mask pictures! I lurve my maskie!! *pathetic*

This is, unfortunately, the last fully completed chapter. But DON'T WORRY! I have not lost my mind; I can still write! I'll just have to finish up chapter 6 as I go. =} Turner


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